


Earth Boys Are Easy

by etben



Series: Earth Boys Are Easy [2]
Category: Stargate: Atlantis
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 17:51:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etben/pseuds/etben
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a rule, on Atlantis, unspoken but still carefully followed: the teams that had to do the freaky rituals on off-world missions were allowed to be weird together for a while afterwards, and nobody was allowed to hassle them about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Earth Boys Are Easy

**Author's Note:**

> beta by ferret_kitty and stop

Except, of course, it wasn't _actually_ the end, because that would have been entirely too easy.

John got to pretend it was all over for about a day—they went to the debriefing, reported success, got the official go-ahead to trade 145 pairs of boots and 120 pairs of shoes for grains and fruit, went to the mess hall, and preemptively claimed their extra dessert, all just like normal. Nobody kissed anyone, nobody _talked_ about kissing anyone, and if they all spent just a little too much time staring at each other's mouths, well.

There was a rule, on Atlantis, unspoken but still carefully followed: the teams that had to do the freaky rituals on off-world missions were allowed to be weird together for a while afterwards, and nobody was allowed to hassle them about it.

Theirs hadn't been the weirdest ritual—no feathers, for one, and nobody had had to dance—but John figured there was no reason to tell anybody else that. The rule gave them about a week—it could be extended, but there had to be at least 3/5 approval from the science staff—which was probably enough time for them to kick this particular habit, get things back to normal.

The next morning proved him wrong, though.

Ronon met him for their morning run, just like always, but he got there 15 minutes early, and bounced on the balls of his feet as John opened the door. John rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked blearily up at Ronon, whose face was split by an enormous shit-eating grin. And not just enormous in the way that everything else about Ronon was enormous, either: enormous in the way that meant John could barely see Ronon's eyes, but had an up-close view of his teeth. Which, wow: Sateda had clearly had really good dental care, back when it still had anything at all.

"The Earth women will have sex with me, now," Ronon said, and John let his head drop back against the wall. Then, of course, he had to get up, because Ronon still wanted to exercise.

Over the course of the run, John heard more or less the whole story. Apparently, Ronon had been trying to get a date pretty much for as long as he'd been in Atlantis, without much success.

"Didn't get what they wanted—" he said, as they jogged across the catwalks, "they just kept staring at me." He'd never managed to actually have sex, it turned out, which made sense. There weren't as many women as there were men on the expedition, and the women were all smart, capable ladies, who knew what they wanted in a man and were perfectly capable of looking elsewhere if their current studly alien man-candy wasn't up to snuff. Armed with his newly learned kissing skills, though, Ronon had gone and put the moves on Dr. Bommaraju, who studied the role of music in Ancient society. She'd responded favorably, and they had—

"Whoa, hey, wait," John said, skidding to a halt and grabbing Ronon's sleeve. "I mean, I'm glad for you and all, but I don't—you can't—just don't tell me about that, please." Ronon shrugged.

"Your loss," he said, and John kind of agreed.

He didn't see Teyla, on his way back, and spent a few moments being grateful that he didn't have to put up with "Sex is Great!" in stereo. On his way to breakfast, though, he saw something worse: Bates, with what was unmistakably a hickey on his neck, coming out of Teyla's quarters. Hard to tell which one of them was more embarrassed, although John, at least, had the moral superiority that came with clean underwear.

He ate breakfast on his own, at a table in the corner, and made it to his morning meeting with Weir before anyone got the bright idea to come over and talk to him. The meeting, at least, was fine: refinements to space allotments and shift assignments, nothing he didn't already know forward and backwards.

After that, he had the basic jumper training for the newest people, and then a meeting with a few of the linguists, who wanted him to try and activate what they thought was some translation gizmo. Both of those were reassuringly sex-free, and John went to lunch in a much better mood.

McKay was already there, staring grimly at his half-eaten plate of meatloaf. When John sat down, he didn't look up, although he did give lunch an extra-vicious poke with his fork.

"If you're planning to tell me about your incredible sexploits last night, Colonel," he said, "please don't. I've had quite enough of that already."

"No worries, McKay," John replied, digging into his own meatloaf—not bad, actually. "I'm in the same boat. Also, sexploits?"

"Oh, shut up," Rodney said, but there was relief all over his face, and he sat up straight. "'Sexploits' is a perfectly valid term, and more than applicable in the current situation, I think."

"Sexploits, McKay? Seriously, _sexploits_?"

"What are sexploits?"

It was Ronon, of course, with Teyla right next to him, both of them with the same goddamn curious expressions that had started this whole thing in the first place. They sat down and stared at John, waiting for an explanation.

"Um," John said, and then "Er," and he was just thinking about maybe trying a 'well' on for size when Rodney harrumphed, reached past him for the salt, and did the explaining himself.

"Sexploits are what Ronon's been having all over the base," he explained.

"Teyla, too," John put in, in the interest of equal exposure, "with Bates." Rodney's head snapped around to stare at Teyla.

"Bates? Really?" He made a face. "Don't take this personally, Teyla, but—"

"What is wrong with Sergeant Bates?" Teyla asked, frowning. "We have had differences of opinion in the past, to be sure, but that is no reason for me not to have sex with him. He is quite—"

John was too busy choking to hear the adjective she used, which was probably—no, _definitely_—a good thing.

"Jesus," Rodney said, thumping John heavily on the back until his breathing was under control, "didn't Elizabeth go over the concept of 'kiss and tell' with you two? Specifically, the part where you _shouldn't do it_?" Teyla looked hurt—Ronon, too, although it was always kind of hard to tell, under the hair.

"She did, yes," Teyla said, looking away from them both. "She also said that, with close friends, this—custom—was often overlooked, on account of the love each bore for the other and the deep interest they took in each other's lives." Her eyes were wide and dark, and Ronon looked like he wanted to hit something really, really hard. McKay was blushing, frowning, and John put his head in his hands.

He'd never been able to resist that sad, lonely look on someone's face, and especially not when that someone was a friend, so he sighed and rolled his shoulders back and said, "Look, guys, it's not your fault. McKay and I—we're just a little frustrated, that's all." Not because they wanted to be doing Teyla and Ronon, of course (except in the sense that all pulse-bearing creatures wanted to be doing Teyla and Ronon). It was just—just the abstract jealousy of the celibate for those getting laid. Really.

They still didn't get it, for a while, and then Ronon, twirling his fork on his plate, asked tentatively, "Don't you _want_ to be having sex?"

McKay snorted. "Um, hello, yes!" he said, rolling his eyes, "but the Colonel there won't canoodle with anyone under his command,"—Ronon raised his eyebrows and mouthed 'Canoodle?', but John just shook his head. Some things really, really weren't worth explaining, and interrupting McKay now would only set them off on a tangent. "—and is unutterably dense to boot, and I'm actually too busy for sex, not to mention that people aren't exactly lining up for the privilege—which is just their loss, really—"

"I'd have sex with you," Ronon said, and _Jesus_—now John knew how to completely derail McKay's train of thought, next time he needed to.

"As would I," Teyla added. At that, Rodney actually choked on empty air, and so they all had to take a minute to help him breathe again. His next words, though, made John wish that they had let him asphyxiate.

"What about him?" Rodney asked, pointing at John, and _Jesus, Rodney!_ Teyla and Ronon looked at Rodney like he was insane—which was gratifying, given that he clearly was, but also kind of insulting, since, after all, John liked to think that he was at least as attractive as McKay.

But they were—they were _nodding_, nodding and smiling and giving John a once-over that he felt right down to his toes, and, um. Well.

Beside him, Rodney was talking again. It took John a few minutes to bring his brain back online, but when he did, he heard:

"—Probably not the best idea—oh, what am I saying, it's simultaneously the best and the worst idea I've had in my life, which is saying something—but my quarters aren't far, and I technically don't have anywhere I need to be this afternoon, so if you're not busy...?" He glanced from Teyla to Ronon and back, and rocketed up out of his seat when they both nodded. "Great!" They all collected their trays and headed off, leaving John sitting at the table, staring at the last few bites of his meatloaf.

Before he had time to really start brooding, though, Rodney was back, tugging on his sleeve and hustling him to his feet.

"Come on, already, what are you doing? You're not—" he stopped dead, turning to face John fully, and hissed out: "—you're not seriously thinking of saying _no_, are you? I didn't think you were quite that stupid, but clearly—"

"No!" John said, and then, seeing the stricken look on Rodney's face, "I mean, yes, of course, let me toss this and—I thought you didn't want—" He trailed off, not knowing how to explain, but as usual, Rodney was there ahead of him.

"What, because I didn't ask about your schedule? Oh, please, Colonel," he said, "I've had your schedule memorized since our second week here." He slammed John's tray onto the conveyor belt that led back to the kitchens, and then grabbed John by the shoulder and pointed him at the transporter, where Ronon and Teyla were waiting.

"Come on, Sheppard. The nice aliens want to have sex with us."

And that put a different spin on 'sexploits', didn't it?

***

Rodney's quarters were only one corner away from the nearest transporter, so they were there almost before John could blink. Rodney kept going straight, just breezed on in—well, they were his quarters, after all—but Ronon and Teyla stood with John just inside the door, the three of them rocking on their feet and not quite meeting each other's eyes.

"Give me a second," Rodney called over his shoulder, leaning over one of the workbenches that ran along the wall, "I'm just going to configure the internal communications system so that it can pick up our radio channels and broadcast them in here, without us having to wear the earpieces." He straightened up, then, and looked back at the three of them. "It's going to take me a few minutes, so just—" a hand gesture that seemed to represent shooing pigeons "—carry on."

He dove back into the console, muttering, and John turned back to Ronon and Teyla, tugging off his earpiece and setting it on the counter. They did the same, and then there was another breathless pause. Then Teyla, smiling, stepped forward, set her hands on John's face, and kissed him.

She had definitely been practicing, John noted. Her kisses were sweet and lush, all smooth glide of tongue and the smallest hint of teeth to his lower lip. He let his arms slide around her, and the curve of her back was warm and bare under his hands, the line of her spine delicate and inviting.

He barely even noticed that she was moving him, pushing him back, until he felt a big hand on his hip, the steady breadth of Ronon's chest supporting him. Then: lips on the back of his neck, exploring the space between the collar of his shirt and his hairline with kisses and licks and small, teasing bites. John's fingers found divots on Teyla's back, little dimples right where her back gave way to the rich swell of hip and ass. When he rubbed them, she hissed out a breath and arched into him, so he did it again, and then again.

When Ronon slid one hand down and over John's crotch, he snapped his hips forward without even trying to stop it. Naturally, since they were making like horny teenagers and trying to have sex standing up, this set them all off balance and nearly sent Teyla sprawling to the floor; John only just managed to get his arms all the way around her in time.

There was a blur of motion, then, a whirl of bodies and clothing, and when it ended John was stretched across Rodney's couch, leaning back against Ronon's chest, while Teyla watched them. John's shirt was gone and his pants were unzipped, and Ronon had one big hand jerking John off slow and easy. It was—John would have said that it was _friendly_, but that somehow seemed like the wrong word for a hand on his dick. It wasn't high-pressure, though, didn't have any urgency behind it. It was just—just touch for the sake of touch, putting your hands on someone else's body because you liked them and wanted to groove on their skin for a while. It was—

"—Remarkably picturesque, I'll admit, but I do have a bed, you know." John blinked his eyes open and let his head loll to the left. Rodney was talking, of course, but he'd abandoned his desk and was standing with one arm hooked in the waistband of Teyla's pants, the other thumbing almost idly across her naked breast as she rocked back against him.

"Bed'd be nice," Ronon said, the rumble-hum of it resonating through John. "Come on, up," he continued, and it wasn't until he felt carpet under his feet again that John realized that, hey, Ronon had probably been talking to him. By that point, they were already crowding through the door to the bedroom.

Rodney had, by hook or by crook, lucked out in the housing draw, and had an actual bedroom instead of a bed in one corner of his room. He'd also wound up with an enormous bed, one that took up almost all of the space in the room and would easily fit the four of them. Ronon swore, a sharp string of Satedan he occasionally used and never translated.

"OK, what does that even mean?" Rodney demanded, kicking off his pants and folding them over a chair. "I mean, if we're going to—to—" he stumbled over the words for a moment, then recovered his momentum "—to do this, I think we all at least deserve to know what you're saying. Also, take those off."

"I said _sintu gpo-ana_, McKay," Ronon said, stripping out of his pants and turning to tug at John's.

"Yes, fine," Rodney retorted, putting their pants with his, "but what does that _mean_?" Teyla, standing next to him, giggled and fell onto the bed, rolling from side to side. Rodney stared at her, looking remarkably outraged for a naked man. "Wait, you mean you _know_?" She nodded, laughing helplessly, and Rodney turned back to Ronon, who sighed and caved.

"It means your room looks like a whorehouse, McKay," Ronon said, running a hand down John's side and starting to stroke him again. Rodney, surprisingly, didn't yell or fuss—he just watched them, his eyes going hot and dark.

"Well, I mean, I'd never thought about it that way, and I'm reasonably certain that the Ancients didn't intend it like that, but now that I think about it—" He was interrupted by Teyla, who had folded her arms across her chest and was watching, too.

"I agree, Rodney;" she said, licking her lips, "John is certainly very pretty."

"Mmm," John said, and then "Wait," and then "_Hey!_" He launched himself onto the bed, trying to pin Teyla down in revenge—tickling seemed about right.

Teyla being Teyla, though, she had him flat on his back in a matter of seconds, pinning his torso with her weight on his chest, trapping his arms against his sides with her legs. John thrashed, experimentally, but Teyla just called to Ronon and Rodney for assistance, and soon there were hands holding his ankles to the bed.

Ronon's hands, it turned out, because Rodney walked around the bed and watched, one hand on his cock, as Teyla ground down against John. John arched up, straining against her hands on his wrists and Ronon's hands on his ankles, and then there were hands on his cock, too, god, oh, _please_—

He wrenched his eyes open again, and—god, it was Rodney, Rodney with his hands on John's dick, holding it in place as Teyla positioned herself and then eased back down, slow and steady and unbearably hot. When she was all the way back down, Rodney pulled his fingers away: they were glistening, and Rodney smiled down at John before disappearing back around the end of the bed.

That was fine with John, just fine, because Teyla started to rock back and forth, tiny slip-slide increments of _hot-wet-yes_ that made John's eyes water, it felt so good. Back and forth, back and forth, and there was a little drop of sweat sliding down Teyla's shoulder and onto her breasts, her gorgeous breasts that he hadn't even gotten the chance to touch yet, which was just unfair.

"John's right, Teyla," said Rodney's voice from somewhere off to the side. "You really ought to let him—nngh!" He broke off in a grunt, and the hands on John's ankles clenched even tighter, pinning him to the bed. A pause, and then—was that Ronon, moaning like that? Rodney was keeping up a steady stream of muttering, so, yeah, Ronon: gasping and sobbing and making the bed shake, his hands spasming on John's ankles.

John tried again to break Teyla's grip, and this time she let him, just slid her hands up to his shoulders and kept riding him, muscles working smoothly in her legs as she rose and fell. Her breasts filled his hands, and she gasped, moaned and clenched down on him when he ran his fingers across her nipples, along the gentle curve of the underside. Then, god, he was coming, snapping his hips up and up and up as the world went crystal-sharp around him, the effortless clarity of high altitude and adrenaline.

As his breathing slowed back to normal, Teyla slid off of him and curled up with her head on his shoulder, and—oh, wow. There was no way, not when he'd just come so hard he was still feeling it in his quads and his ears, but it was insanely hot all the same: Ronon, still with his hands pinning John down, but with Rodney behind him, fucking him slow and deep, his lips bitten red, breathing in grunts and gasps.

As John watched, Rodney reached around with one hand, going for Ronon's cock, but Ronon swatted him away, not letting him touch. He dropped his head, gasping toward the mattress, and then Rodney was really pounding him, shoving in over and over again until he groaned and swore and collapsed, spread out over Ronon's back. For a moment, it was all silence and heavy breathing, and then Rodney pulled back and crawled up the mattress to slump next to John, still staring up at Ronon in confusion.

"Why wouldn't you let me—" He gestured at Ronon's cock, still hard and jutting out into empty air.

"Can do that for myself," Ronon said, glancing up at them through a curtain of hair. "Was hoping to do it the other way." And oh, wasn't that a nice image? Ronon grinned, meeting John's eyes, and kept talking to McKay. "You or Sheppard, McKay?"

Rodney swallowed, and John felt it against his arm. "Oh, that's a tough one;" he said, "pitting physical pleasure against the visual interest—"

"What about Teyla?" John asked, and felt the shiver of her laughter against his side.

"I have tasted that particular delight already, John," she said. "I can wait my turn." Rodney lifted his head, resting his chin on John's chest and staring at him from what, in any other circumstances, would have been way too close.

"I'm fine, if you want to—I mean, if you don't want to, that's—" John was already nodding, though, and Rodney nodded back. "All right, then—get up here, already!" he said, tugging on one of Ronon's dreads. Ronon grinned, but followed, leaning down into John's face to kiss him.

And, OK, John could admit it: teaching Ronon to kiss had been a really good idea, maybe one of the best ideas ever, because he was damn good at it, tipping John's head back into the pillows and running his tongue along John's teeth again and again, biting his neck and breathing on his ears.

Around them, Rodney moved back down to the foot of the bed, tugging the sheets this way and that and muttering to himself, and then he was back, this time next to Teyla. There was a click, and a damp skin-on-skin rasp, and the before John could reconstruct those sounds into actions, there were fingers tracing around his asshole, rubbing in shivery circles before pushing in, stretching him and filling him and oh, oh god, yes, please, _Rodney_—

"Yeah," Rodney said, "that should do it." John watched as he turned towards Teyla, and replaced her hand between her legs with his mouth.

"Oh," she said, and then, again, louder: "Oh!" Before John could say anything, though, he was being lifted away. Ronon leaned up against the headboard and pulled John back towards him, pushing his cock into John by inches and half-inches until John was filled, full to bursting, with Ronon in him and around him, Teyla's moans and Rodney's happy hum filling his ears.

It didn't take long, considering how turned-on they both were; soon they were both gasping and shuddering, John arching his back as Ronon's hands played over him, stroking his cock and tugging his nipples. He couldn't do much more than that, really—Ronon had his knees in between John's, so that when he spread his legs, he was also spreading John's legs, leaving him completely exposed and more or less helpless and not minding it one bit. When Ronon bit John's neck and thrust up into him, John could feel him coming, could feel the warm rush and the way Ronon's quads went tense. His own orgasm was more like stepping off a cliff than anything else—a moment of hesitation, and then a rush that just went on and on, leaving him crumpled and panting and staring at the ceiling.

Next to them, Teyla was still moaning and twisting as Rodney worked busily between her thighs.

"Looks nice," Ronon murmured in John's ear, and John nodded, running his hands absently along his thighs. They watched as Teyla gasped and shook and fell apart, her hands knotting the sheets and her legs pulling tight around Rodney's sides. Eventually, after long moments of small, wet noises and little whimpers, they fell apart, Rodney rolling over onto his back.

"Well, that was fun," Rodney said, crawling back up the bed again.

"Yeah," John agreed, rolling off of Ronon and tucking his head under Rodney's chin, "let's do it again." Behind him, he felt Ronon jerk.

"What, _now_?" He asked, and John just laughed into Rodney's shoulder, hooking one arm around Teyla's waist to bring her even closer. Ronon sighed, but he moved in as well, tucking his arm around them all and his knees behind John's. "Earth people are _weird_," he muttered, his breath brushing against John's hair, and John heard Rodney give a sleepy laugh.

And that was where it _really_ ended.

(Well, pretty much. There was the sex in the morning—John blowing Rodney, slow and sweet and intense, while above his head Teyla and Ronon made out with Rodney and each other in equal measure.

And, yeah, there was the sex that night: Ronon fucking Rodney fucking John, and John doing his best to go down on Teyla without his brain shorting out.

And, OK, sure, there were a couple of quickie hand-jobs between boring meetings, and then the kisses whenever they could spare time (which was pretty much always), and the four of them sleeping together just for comfort on away missions, and then sleeping together every _other_ night, and then eventually there was the part where Rodney threw up his hands and said "Fine! You live here, all of you! Now, will one of you clean the goddamn sink?", and then the part where John tried to introduce them to his parents, and then gave up and took them to the Caribbean instead...

...but you have to draw the lines somewhere, after all.)


End file.
